


Several Notions: 13-24

by hophophop



Series: Several Notions [2]
Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 21:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hophophop/pseuds/hophophop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"I want to solve this!"</em><br/><em>"Oh!"</em><br/>A story of the last 12 episodes of season one, told in 100-word scenes. One per episode, with one bonus entry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Several Notions: 13-24

**13\. The Red Team**  
Dresden's sizable liquor display wasn't visible from where Holmes stood in the dining room, but in the seconds it took to walk past it, he'd catalogued 17 varieties of spirits. Watson had another errand scheduled and didn't accompany the Dresdens to the motel. He spent the ride alternating between possible Red Team plans and arranging Dresden's bottles in his mind. He was relieved that his warning saved the other team members but Gregson's bridled anger and the quickly banished thought that it could have been Watson held hostage made him wish for a drink like nothing he'd felt in months.

 **14\. The Deductionist**  
Gregson said it was bad but he had no idea. Watson slowed as they approached the double doors and the sea green walls blurred into a nauseating fog difficult to breathe. Flashes of vivid red and steel burst through the haze. If she stood perfectly still she could withstand the cacophony of blood pounding in her ears and brace against the memories crashing down. A familiar voice broke through and she responded automatically, not hearing her own answer. Once focus shifted from the room to the message on the door she could move and think again, the flashback swiftly repressed.

_14\. The Deductionist (bonus)_  
 _The Deductionist: A Psychological Profile_  
 _Kathryn Drummond_  
 _Federal Bureau of Investigation, Washington, DC_

_Abstract: A psychological profile was conducted of a subject with highly ordered intelligence impaired by addictive and impulsive tendencies. The white male, age 30, was employed as a police consultant while simultaneously engaging in behavior inimical to that profession. Characteristics consistent with sensory-processing sensitivity were observed absent the expected inhibition or introversion response. The cognitive dissonance that was demonstrated by the subject's sporadic uncontrolled expressions of anger and the use of potent deductive perceptivity to shield against emotional engagement indicated a pre-disposition to self-destruction compounded by increasing illicit drug use. Overdose, suicide, and penal or psychological incarceration were predicted outcomes._

**15\. A Giant Gun, Filled with Drugs**  
First she noticed his clasped hands as he sat in the wingback chair while they watched the kidnapper's video. Then she recalled he'd had his arms folded, hands hidden, before he sat down. He had pointedly ignored the little bag with Emily's phone that Rhys tried to give him. At the start, in the kitchen, his hands had been confined to his pockets, while he stood so tense and still she thought he would pull a muscle. He'd readily agreed Rhys was a trigger, and now she understood how determined he was to keep himself from reaching for that gun.

 **16\. Details**  
It was a month since she lied and a week since he found out. He'd been a wretch back then, no question. But now? Six days of exemplary behaviour and no indication from her that it was time. He became more aggressive with his hints, calling her on accompanying him regardless of risk and pushing self-defense. She got angry, but he caught the glint in her eye when he mentioned training. She ignored his acknowledgement that he'd been wrong to seek vengeance, but then she never wanted to speak about that time. Instead she focused on work. His work. Hmm.

 **17\. Possibility Two**  
With 150 over-achievers in his Genetics class, Jerry didn't get to know Watson until she did a rotation in an AIDS hospice ward where his partner Amos was dying. Jerry sat up through the nights he couldn't sleep, working while waiting for the end, which was close. A night-owl, Watson often traded for overnight shifts nobody else wanted and spent many hours talking with him. Jerry's love and grief were more instructive than most lectures, and she found the experience quite moving. It also terrified her. She chose the precision of surgery in response, wary of feeling that vulnerable again.

 **18\. Deja Vu All Over Again**  
Her decision to apologize to the likely murderer shocked him as much as her telling him she'd taken another client so many weeks before. Watson doing something unexpected was generally a good thing, kept him on his toes, but he was dismayed to discover the depths of her self-doubt. He strongly believed it did not stem from him. He could be abrasive and rude, but he knew he had never discouraged her. Neither had he expected too much, he was certain. This came from within, and, he deduced, had little to do with her suitability or desire for detective work.

 **19\. Snow Angels**  
He'd found over the years that holding one's tongue usually resulted in others loosening theirs, and law enforcement professionals were no exception. Detective Bell, for example, wasn't the only officer he'd known with a musical theatre background. Bell had recounted his tale during their investigation into underground mahjong parlours, and how the sound of tiles or dice in a cup still brought certain cues to mind. At least Bell had stopped short of recreating his performance; at the time his pounding head could not have borne the noise. After seeing him in the interrogation room, however, he was almost sorry.

 **20\. Dead Man's Switch**  
For once she was awake later than him, sitting in the leather chair watching the embers while he wheezed softly into the couch cushions behind her. Someday she'd ask why couches instead of beds. Now she was thinking about what he'd said and what he hadn't about his first 24 hours at Hemdale. He could simply have been referring to heroin withdrawal, but for Sherlock, not using specific terminology was as meaningful as any precision. The first time he'd spoken of Irene had been like that. She imagined the full tale of his sickness that day would be similarly unpredictable.

 **21\. A Landmark Story**  
He tried to be honest, but self-deception was a convincing prevaricator, and he knew himself to be an unreliable narrator. He was walking a tightrope across a dark land now, no way to know how far he might fall if he lost his balance. Working with Watson brought a profound satisfaction he had never expected, and yet even now it was hard, so hard, to let go of the seductive singular focus that promised long-sought answers. It was easy to justify leaving her behind for her own benefit and much harder to accept the need to include her, for his.

 **22\. Risk Management**  
Gregson was good; he knew her weak spot and pressed hard. She pushed back but the doubt he stirred lingered. Contrary to Gregson's claim, Sherlock was aware of the danger she was in. He acknowledged both the risk and her choice to accept it. But only to a point. The impossible promise he made might have meant more if she didn't know how he’d try to keep it. Shielding her with patronizing posturing, disregarding or disbelieving his own vulnerability. Just like Gregson. Sherlock's evasions and lies "to protect her" only undermined the trust between them, the greatest risk of all.

 **23\. The Woman**  
She thought he was going to look back and let her talk him out of leaving. Then he was gone, and it took another few minutes before she could feel anything but her heart pounding in her chest. Anger pushed past the flash of sorrow, and she realized she was livid. Furious at him, at Irene, at Moriarty. Guess I really am the detective now, she thought. A wave of loss washed through her again, and again she let it pass. Sherlock went too far with self-reproach, but he was right about what she would do next: dismantle Moriarty's empire.

 **24\. Heroine**  
The pain in his shoulder was better than distraction; it was purification, by blood and fire, cauterizing the amputated limb that had been his reason for trying to die after London and later for trying to live. Soon Watson would come home and stitch him up. She would be furious and incredulous and sarcastic and gentle and kind. She was more than he deserved. He tried to concentrate on Moriarty, but the story wouldn't stay clear in his mind, between the blood loss and the frankly preposterous turn of events. He just wanted Watson. He needed to tell her everything.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [theslaughteredunicorn](http://theslaughteredunicorn.tumblr.com/) and [beanarie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/beanarie/works) for feedback on some of these entries.


End file.
